


Getting Lost in You

by TwoKnightsOneSword



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And disgustingly horny, Domesticity, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Is that a warning? You decide, Modern AU, Modern Setting, Morning Sex, PWP (sort of), Smut, This is disgustingly sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoKnightsOneSword/pseuds/TwoKnightsOneSword
Summary: Though he never before thought it possible, Sunday has become Jaime’s favorite day of the week for good reason. Shutting out the rest of the world, he and Brienne can focus on what’s most important: each other.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 56
Kudos: 136
Collections: The Exchange that was Promised: Jaime x Brienne Smut Swap 2021





	Getting Lost in You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lewispanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lewispanda/gifts).



> It’s been a very, _very_ long time since I’ve written a fic, so please bear with me. I feel embarrassingly rusty. That being said, lewispanda, I hope you enjoy. And a big thank you to my betas for putting up with me through this whole thing, cuz god knows I couldn’t have.

Jaime rolls onto his back, turning his head in an attempt to shield his eyes from the sunlight peeking in through the curtains. Brienne’s nuzzling his neck, her soft lips pressed against the base of his throat, hand resting low on his abdomen. She enjoys tantalizing him this way, though he knows she won’t actually make a move unless he wants her to. Sliding her hand up towards his chest instead, she places it over his heart, making it thump heavy in his chest. They lay there and enjoy basking in each other’s warmth, a heap of tangled limbs.

“Good morning,” Jaime murmurs, nudging her cheek with his nose. Looking bleary-eyed and disheveled, Brienne only hums in response, her hand still resting against his chest. This is how she always manages to look upon waking, regardless of whether she slept well or not at all.

It’s a sight Jaime will never tire of.

Sundays seem to always start this way of late, one rousing the other with lazy, languid kisses and touches that turn heated more often than not. Though they’ve only been living together for a couple of months, they’d unintentionally developed somewhat of a weekend ritual, granting themselves a day to linger in bed for as long as they wish. They both have a tendency to spread themselves too thin, and having the time to focus solely on each other is a much-needed reprieve — one they can’t imagine giving up now.

To Jaime’s delighted surprise, Brienne had been the one to broach the topic of living together. They hadn’t been dating for all that long at the time, really (though Jaime will vehemently contend that they were, in fact, dating for far longer than that), so she framed it as pragmatically as possible. He’d mentioned that he’d been considering a new place for some time now, and he’d already been staying over nearly every weekend by that point, so why not simply move in? After all, he’d told her time and again how much he preferred her place to his.

The thought of waking up next to her every morning makes his heart skip a beat. Hearing her even breathing, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest, feeling the warmth of her skin against his was already a grounding comfort like none he’d ever known. Just as well, he couldn’t help that his mind had wandered in another direction: they’d be able to fuck _far_ more often. It seemed she felt similarly, as that next weekend, he’d seen that Brienne, his ever-diligent Brienne, never replaced the empty box of condoms like she said she would. When he brought it to her attention, her cheeks instantly pinked. She averted her eyes for a beat, trying her best to school her face into something more neutral (and failing spectacularly). “Well, I’ve been thinking...” He hadn’t even let her finish that sentence before he crashed into her.

It was a rather remarkable weekend indeed.

  
  


Jaime begins to grow hard at the memory, so he leans in and roughly presses his lips to hers. With Brienne’s focus fixed entirely on the kiss, Jaime inches the hand that had been settled on her thigh toward her cunt. Cupping her, he feels that inviting warmth emanating from the already-damp fabric. She sighs, drawing her knees up just enough to grant him better access. His fingers tease her gently, just for a few seconds, before dipping his hand inside her shorts, making her gasp into his mouth at the unexpected move. Her knees automatically knock together at the sensation, but he places his other hand on her knee to pull them apart, further spreading her legs.

Brienne rests her head against him, warm, shallow puffs rustling the hair on his chest. She’s quickly getting significantly wetter against his hand, but the range of motion afforded to him at this angle is far too restrictive for his liking — and hers too, apparently, as he can feel her growing restless at his side. She lets out a sound that almost sounds like a whine, squirming and squeezing her legs together, desperate for something _more_.

“Gods, just—,” Brienne cuts herself off, lifting her hips almost angrily. She strips her shorts all the way off, tossing them haphazardly toward the foot of the bed, reaching for the hem of her shirt next. Jaime can’t help but grin at her impatience and takes this as his cue to follow suit.

She pulls him back in for another kiss, hungrier, more forceful than the ones they exchanged earlier. He smiles against her mouth at her unabashed want. His hand returns to her, his touch more firm, running his fingers along her slit, occasionally slipping them between her lips, the feeling of warm, wet flesh against his fingers making him weak.

Taking pity on her neediness, he finally, _finally_ slides his fingers inside; she lets out an airy, contented sigh. He leans his forehead against hers, curling and uncurling his fingers rhythmically, their breaths mingling, hers hitching every so often when he hits just the right spot. She instinctively rolls her hips in time with his movements.

He mumbles filth in her ear, each comment cruder than the last.  
“How are you always _so wet_ ?”  
“Your cunt’s always so greedy for me, isn’t it?”  
“How many times do you think I can make you come?”  
“ _Yes_ , fuck yourself on my fingers.”  
“Do you remember how hard you came with both our fingers inside you? _Four of them_. You handled it so well, Brienne. You were so ready for my cock.”

She hides her face against his neck, muttering a half-lewd, half-vexed “ _oh gods_ ”, and clenches hard around his fingers.

Knowing she’s getting close is his signal to withdraw completely. She whines in protest at the loss of contact, sounding almost distraught. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Patience,” he whispers, kissing her forehead. He never could’ve anticipated that Brienne would be so impatient when it came to sex. But there’s a lot about Brienne that he could never anticipate. 

He takes this opportunity to maneuver his body between her legs. She combs her fingers through the short curls at the nape of his neck as she arches her back, letting him know where she’d prefer his attention. He lets out a small chuckle before closing his lips around a pert, puffy nipple. Going back and forth between them at his leisure, he sucks harshly, grazes them with his teeth, making sure to lavish them with his tongue to soothe the pleasurable ache (if her whimpers are any indication) that he’s causing.

But he needs more, and he knows she does too. He leaves a trail of wet kisses between her breasts, taking his sweet time working his way downwards until his head’s situated between her legs, his face level with her cunt. She's perfectly flushed, perfectly ready — soft, swollen, and so very wet.

“Tell me what you want, Brienne.”   
  
“Your mouth. Fuck me with your mouth.”

He can’t help but smirk; he loves when he manages to cajole a rare, throaty vulgarity out of her.

  
  


Jaime’s never been shy about his love for Brienne’s body, about letting her know how much he adores every single inch of her — and he makes it a point to show her as much as often as possible. She was made to be worshipped, as far as he’s concerned. It took some time for her to start believing that; she’d been especially self-conscious of her cunt, telling him as much before he went down on her for the first time. Of course, her fears were very much unfounded, as he immediately became a man possessed. He took his time, showering every part of her with rapt attention, lips and tongue working vigorously (and most enthusiastically) to bring her to a state of rapture. When she finally came with the most lascivious moan he’d ever heard, he roughly gripped his painfully hard cock, hoping to prevent himself from prematurely finishing on the sheets. 

He did not succeed.

Any other time, he’d probably tease her a little, just to get under her skin. But they’re in the thick of it now, and he can’t even think about playing games when all he wants is to taste her, to make her curse and keen and quiver. He takes a breath, looking at her already wrecked state. He issues a challenge to himself, saying he can make her come with just his mouth — it’s what she asked for, after all.

When he presses his mouth against her, he feels her tense and then immediately relax. It amazes him that they’ve done this so many times and yet she’s still just as receptive and sensitive as the first. He tightens his grip on her thighs, holding them still, keeping her as open to him as possible. Draping one leg over his shoulder, he flattens his tongue against her and takes long, measured licks. With every pass, he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue before bringing it between his lips.

She takes hold of his hair then, fingers grasping his almost-too-short curls, gently tugging whenever he sucks a little too eagerly. Coming up for air, he pushes her legs further apart, spreading her lips with his fingers, he presses his mouth to her once more, not returning to her clit just yet. He’s starting to rut against the bed, so he needs to change tack. He holds the back of her thighs, keeping them as wide as possible, baring her to him completely.

“Hold your legs open for me,” he rasps.

Fully open to him now, he buries his tongue inside her. He can swear that she makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a squeal. The movements of his tongue inside her are firm and languid, dipping in and out, and she’s helpless in this position, unable to roll her hips and grind against his face like he can tell she wants.

He knows she’s right there, can feel it in the tensing of her muscles, the way she’s starting to direct him with words and gestures. Knowing he’d succeed regardless, he feels it would be cruel to deprive her of this, so pulls away from her just long enough to slip his fingers inside her, wanting to give her something to clench around as she comes. He purses his lips around her clit once more, and he knows she’s done for, a low and steady moan erupting from her throat, past her parted lips.

As she comes down, she lowers her legs (rather, lets them drop), all the energy having been sapped from her. He continues to lap at her, caressing the insides of her thighs, kissing her through the aftershocks. He shoots her a drunken smile before resting his head against her hip. Enjoying the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair, he breathes her in. Her blunt nails graze his scalp, making him shiver slightly.

Neither of them have the energy to speak, so they rest for a minute, allowing their breathing to even, simply enjoying each other’s soothing touch.

  
  


When he feels like he’s recovered enough, Jaime slowly rises to his knees. He regards the way she’s sprawled out before him, permitting him to take his fill. Here, in front of him, she doesn’t attempt to minimize herself. The sight takes his breath away. This Brienne, the Brienne who loves fucking him in the morning light, is such a stark contrast to the woman he’d met all those years ago; the Brienne that stood awkwardly and stumbled over her own words, always looking like she wanted nothing more than to recede into the background almost everywhere she went. An impossible task, of course, for someone like her. Yet here, in her prone state, she looks the very vision of boldness.

She looks every bit as limp and pliable as she must feel. Her nipples are reddened peaks, the hair of her cunt dark and glistening. A brilliant flush takes over almost her entire body, starting from the roots of her hair and ending at her knees, accentuating the sheen of sweat cooling on her skin. Her freckles stand out even more than usual against her already ruddy complexion.

_Her eyes, too_ , he thinks. Her eyes have always been the most lovely thing about her, most people would agree. But it’s not _just_ that they’re the most striking shade of blue he’s ever seen. It’s the way they sparkle when he makes her laugh especially hard. It’s how guileless they are, her emotions so readable in her eyes alone. It’s the way she looks at him, as if she truly _sees_ him.

Still staring at her, Jaime doesn’t realize how far his mind has wandered until he distantly hears his name. Eyes refocusing, he notices Brienne laying back against the pillows, her own gaze stuck on him. She’s taking in his body, and he loves when she looks at him this way, with such open appreciation. She glances between his legs and her eyes quickly snap upwards to meet his once more. The way she stares up at him, eyes clouded the kind of lust that says _I want nothing more than to swallow you whole_ , make his breathing speed up and his cock twitch in anticipation.

“Come here,” she beckons, voice quiet but resolute. Giving a near imperceptible nod, his blood thunders in his ears as he climbs atop her, straddling her chest. With his knees tucked under her arms, she anchors him in place. As she moves to take hold of his cock, she stares up at him with something akin to reverence. Her expression so awed and open, it takes him a second to notice that she’s already started stroking him, slow and even. He switches his attention to the way she’s working him with her hand, and the sight makes him throb.

She likes him in this position, where she gets to watch him while he does his best to restrain himself and remain as still as possible under her ministrations. For all the praise he gives her body, both in words and actions, she returns it in kind. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, really. Brienne has always been very selfless, very giving, and there’d be no reason to expect otherwise when it comes to sex, her initial shyness aside. 

She holds him by the base, pressing her lips against the head of his cock, teasing it with a kiss before running her lips along the side. Her tongue firmly traces the thick veins running along the underside of his length; she’d told him once that she loves how they feel, both in her hand and against her lips.

“ _Seven hells_ ,” he growls between gritted teeth, his head lolling back as if directing it towards the heavens. Seemingly done toying with him, she moves her hands to his hips, stilling him in place as she finally takes him into her mouth. He’s grateful for her hold on him, unsure if he could hold himself back if he had freedom of movement. She takes her time here, head bobbing, using just enough suction to make him loudly groan.

Suddenly (and unexpectedly), she moves her hands to his ass, grabbing him, palming him, bringing him deeper into her throat. When his cock can go no further, he’s helpless to stifle the groan that escapes him. Overwhelmed by the sensation of being swallowed whole, he curses softly under his breath, eyes falling shut, lips parting slightly. He presses one hand against the wall for support, the other holding onto the headboard, bracing himself.

She’s _far_ too good at this; they’re both acutely aware.

He’s already too lost in the moment for his own good when he suddenly feels the rough pads of two fingers lightly press against his hole, immediately making his eyes shoot back open. Now, he _knows_ he’ll be done in an instant if he lets her do this to him, desperate as he is to just say yes and let her render him speechless in that way only she’s capable of. He feels her fingers draw slow, tight circles.

“Gods, _fuck_.” He’s damn near trembling at her touch.

Lips still securely wrapped around his cock, she again moves her hands to his hips, holding him in place as she pulls away until only the tip is left in her mouth. She looks up at him, eyes wide and questioning and clouded with visceral hunger. He shakes his head, giving her a breathless _later_. He feels her hand cup his balls instead, her tongue flicking against his frenulum. He knows this can’t go on for much longer. “ _Brienne_ ,” he grunts, and pulls out of her mouth completely.

He needs to calm down. He needs to catch his breath. He needs to _not_ think about just how fucking desperately he wants to come. She’s still staring up at him, hands caressing his thighs, and he cups her face, running his thumb along her jaw as she leans into the touch.

In an attempt to regain his composure, he climbs off of her and stands up slowly. He desperately needs to get his bearings straight. Stretching out his arms and legs, he glances down at his cock. Stiff, red, and slick with her saliva — it takes every ounce of willpower he has to fight the urge to just finish himself off, right here, while she watches. He knows she wouldn’t mind. She quite enjoys when he performs for her. But no, he needs to be inside her. He needs to be inside her _now_. 

  
  


He clambers back into bed, quickly nestling himself between her legs once more. With an almost pleading look, he tilts her chin up, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth and caresses her cheek.

“Ready?”

She only nods, seemingly unable to find the words. When he pushes inside her, she sucks in a breath, wrapping herself around him before hissing into his shoulder.

Tight. So, so tight, yet still so accommodating. Jaime knows he won’t be able to hold on for long at this point unless by some bodily miracle, the squeeze on his cock relentless. He starts to move, slowly and intently, rocking his hips rather than thrusting. He leans forward and grinds against her, putting just enough pressure on her clit to make her writhe while he steadies himself, needing just a little more time to recover.

The throbbing of his cock finally subsides enough for him to feel in control again, and he finally begins to thrust, his first strokes shallow and teasing. Placing her hand on the back of his neck, she pulls him in for a fierce kiss. His pace quickens, and she deepens the kiss, cupping his face in her hands. Her delicate touch contrasting her ardent kisses, the affection that comes pouring out as he fucks her never fails to set his nerves aflame. After some time, they part slowly, reluctantly, to catch their breath.

She slips her hand between them. The feel of her touching herself when her fingers accidentally brush against his cock sends a chill up his spine. She attempts to roll her hips to the best of her ability given their position, though she most she can do is buck haphazardly. Her fervor galvanizes him. It’s not long before his thrusts become erratic, and he finds he has to slow himself down to a more manageable pace.

Needing a brief moment of respite, he pulls all the way out, taking himself in hand. She almost sobs at the sudden, unexpected emptiness. “Look at how wet you are for me,” he says, his cock very visibly slick as he gives himself a couple of slow strokes. Brienne can’t help but continue to touch herself while watching him. Her hips rise off the bed slightly, giving him an idea.

Jaime grabs a couple of pillows and places them under her hips, giving him more leverage. “ _Yes_ ,” she hisses, grabbing his thighs for stability. He slides back in with much more ease, and he can’t help the sharp groan that escapes him as he goes as deep as possible, filling her completely. Her grip on him tightens as he begins to thrust again, sharp, needy sounds spilling from her. He has a better view this way, getting to watch himself move in and out of her, the way her cunt clutches him.

Not that he’s expecting to last much longer.

He’s _close_ , _so close_ , _fuck_ — but he’s also stubborn. He needs to feel her come around his cock. He presses down on her pelvis, slowing down again, rotating his hips instead in the hopes of providing enough friction both inside and out. His body feels like it’s on fire. He hopes hers does too.

“Brienne,” he rasps. “Can you make yourself come for me? Please?” He knows it’s the plea that does it for her. She closes her eyes then, working her clit even faster, actively seeking her release.

_Gods, please let her be close_. He finds that he can no longer hold back, fucking her faster, holding her tighter. He hunches over her, wanting to maintain as much contact as possible. Bearing his weight on one arm so he can squeeze one of her breasts, rolling her nipple between his fingers until he hears her groan. He can’t hold himself up like this for long, however, and quickly has to plant both his palms back on the bed. “Play with them for me,” he begs.

It’s not much long after when she comes again, the pressure of his cock in conjunction with their full-body contact and the pleasure of her own touch finally overwhelming her, making her tremble against him. The snug fit of her cunt is unyielding, preventing him from moving — not that he even wants to, savoring the sensation of her pulsating around him. When he can no longer stave off his own climax, his body jerks, his pulse thrumming as he fills her with his cum. Brienne shudders, letting out one last choked gasp.

  
  


Still panting, Jaime begrudgingly pulls out, draping his sweat-slicked body over Brienne’s. She looks properly ravished, and though he knows can be a _bit_ too prideful at times, he can’t help but pat himself on the back. He plants kisses all over her face; her lips, her chin, her nose, her eyelids. Brienne runs her hand through his silky mess of hair, brushing it out of his eyes. Though maintenance can be a pain in the ass, he’s growing it out again, knowing she misses it despite never saying as much. He sort of misses it too. Or, well, he misses her being able to bury her hands in it and pull.

Returning the gesture, Jaime pushes a stray lock of limp, sweat-matted hair away from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. Giving him a pleased hum, Brienne wraps her arms around him, her large hands roaming the expanse of his back, holding him against her. Nobody’s ever held him the way she does. Her arms are strong, likely stronger than his, yet she’s so very tender.

Sweet as this moment is, he can’t help himself, letting his head fall towards the crook of her neck and pretending to snore. It earns him a quick pinch on his ass that stings just enough to elicit an " _ow_ –!" He can’t help but let out a loud laugh, a deep rumble in his chest that vibrates through her. He feels her smiling as she murmurs a half-hearted “sorry” against his shoulder.

“Maybe you should kiss it better later,” he quips, provoking a loud snort and a not-so-gentle nudge.

Jaime rolls off of her, and they lay there in comfortable silence. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looks over at Brienne: fulfilled, satiated, at ease.

“I love you,” he blurts, and she turns her head toward him, a broad smile plastered on his face. She takes his hand in hers, brushing her thumb across his knuckles.  
  
“I love you too.”

Feeling her begin to pull away, Jaime rises with her, refusing to break contact just yet while she hauls herself to her feet. “Where are you going?” he asks. She only quirks her eyebrows in response, shooting him an incredulous look. Still holding onto her hand, he brings it to his lips, staring up at her with mischievous eyes. “Well?”

“I was thinking of going for a run in the nude, maybe give the neighborhood a show.”  
  
He continues to stare at her expectantly, though he can’t help but smirk, biting back a laugh. Brienne’s never been one for japing, but she can’t seem to help herself around him. He can’t help that he’s rubbed off on her so much. 

She sighs with feigned exasperation. “The bathroom, Jaime.”

“Not to shower, I hope,” he gripes. “I promised to keep you in a bed all day.” 

“And I have every intention of holding you to that promise,” Brienne says softly, though she can’t hide her smirk. “I swear it.”

Jaime sighs theatrically, finally releasing her and flopping back onto the bed. “ _Fine_. But don’t take too long. You know how much I hate to be parted from you.”  
“Mm, there he is. I was wondering when Dramatic Jaime would return.” 

Though he can’t see her, he knows she’s grinning. And possibly rolling her eyes too, but to be fair, he’d also roll his eyes at himself. Though she’d never outright admit it, he knows she finds his playful petulance charming. Well, most of the time.

Leaving the room, Brienne leans over him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

Jaime lets his eyes fall shut. He’s not sure exactly where this sudden wave of sentimentality came from. Perhaps it’s that their friends seem to be getting married left and right, or that people keep commenting on how they look at each other more googly-eyed than ever. But thinking about having a _future_ with Brienne always sends a rush of warmth through his body. She’s allowed him the privilege to take up space in her life and her home and her heart, and his gratitude is endless. _Their_ home, he reminds himself for the hundredth time, as if he still can’t believe it. 

But it’s always felt like theirs, in a way. He’s the one who helped her find it and went to look at it with her. He gave her ideas on how to make it look less plain and practical, helping her choose a color scheme for each room; navy blue walls, off-white cream for the ceiling and trim to better match the floor for contrast. He was rather surprised the next time he came over and saw that she took his suggestions to heart.

“It reminds me of Tarth,” she said. It was something she’d needed more than she realized, a small semblance of familiarity to counter the stuffiness of King’s Landing

He’s lived there most of his life now, but he understands. She’s become his semblance of familiarity.

As soon as Brienne returns, she lays down at his side, snuggling up against him, and gives his shoulder a quick kiss. Whatever he’s been feeling lately, he’s fairly certain she’s been feeling it too. He can’t help cradle her in his arms, holding her closely, kissing the top of her head before she tucks it under his chin. He savors these moments above all, embraced in the hazy afterglow when everything just feels _right_ , the two of them unconcerned with anything but each other. He’d lay here with her forever, if he could.

He wonders if she’d like that too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who took time out of their day to read this. I appreciate y’all very much.


End file.
